That night two lovers whispering under the lead canopy of the church were killed by their own passion. Their effusion of words, unable to escape through the Saturnian discipline of lead, so filled the spaces of the loft that the air was all driven aw...
As the episode of Scandal ended, I sat up in my bed and thought, I have to read it again. It was driving me crazy, so I got out of bed and skipped down stairs of my comfy loft on the east side of Paradise Hills. Once downstairs I slipped the letter o...
Though Alec had never seen the occupants of the first floor loft, they seemed to be engaged in a tempestuous romance. Once there had been a bunch of someone's belongings strewn all over the landing with a note attached to a jacket lapel addressed to ...
My whole life is out here-the whole of my life...I'd come here naked, as a boy-straight from that river out there-throw my clothes on the floor and climb into that loft and lie there dreaming in the hay...All those summer days-scouring the banks of t...
Suddenly Damask found herself staring down at the flowers through a dazzle of tears. The words sounded so innocent and so disarming - she remembered that she hadn't wanted to come through the beautiful woods at all; and there was no danger, nothing w...
Paul Hackett: Which way you headed? Marcy: Downtown, SoHo. Paul Hackett: Oh, nice... nice. A loft? Marcy: Yeah, she's a sculptress. Lately she's been making these Plaster of Paris bagel and cream cheeses. Paul Hackett: Really... Marcy: She's tryin to...
Eric Draven: MURDERER! Tin Tin: I didn't murder nobody man. I don't even fucking know you, man. What the fuck you want, man? Eric Draven: I want you to tell me a story: A man and a woman in a loft a year ago. Tin Tin: You're outta your fucking mind. ...
The snow has not yet left the earth, but spring is already asking to enter your heart. If you have ever recovered from a serious illness, you will be familiar with the blessed state when you are in a delicious state of anticipation, and are liable to...
I heard a rapid alternation of notes, a vibrating staccato of an ancient instrument, nearly as old as nature herself, a cricket singing in my garden last night, the first time this year. When turning my garden's soil, I often uncover crickets, curmud...
